A few months ago, I copied all of my port stuff onto word files and printed them out. I put off the blog, because I knew it would take forever. I finally started that yesterday, and I now have 230 pages of blog. It was a good feeling. Oddly enough, I happened to start the task on February 1st, which happens to be the exact day I started this blog 3 years ago. I had fun reading through all my old comments and blogs. I personally believe it's gone down quite drastically in quality, and found myself thinking, "Hey, I used to be funny!" I think it's sort of devolved into complaints about my back, interspersed with a few funny bits. I haven't decided whether I will begin a new blog, but if I do, it will be based on renewing my attempts to get published (translation: less Goodtime, more Chronicles of Strife). I do know I'm not leaving the site, and will continue to visit my favorites as time allows. I'll see you all in your comments sections!
 

Good news! I saw my surgeon yesterday, and he said my reflexes are great, so I'm not going to have back surgery at this point. He warned me that it might still happen, but I'm optimistic. I had physical therapy this morning. Although we had school today, the roads are still for shit, so it took me almost an hour to get there. That's okay, because I heard quite a bit of useful information via the magic of radio during my drive:

1) The "people suck" local news report: There is a new phone scam that uses the new economic stimulus package as bait. I believe people are supposed to get their money around May, but if you simply give the kindly caller your SSN, date of birth, etc., they'll make sure you get it sooner.

2) The terrible 80's country music: I'd never heard of Ronnie McDowell until today, yet I would have cheerfully strangled him had he been sitting next to me. I'm basing this on his 1982 country song, titled "Older Women Make Better Lovers." I was thinking, "Damn straight, Ronnie!" until the chorus, which went, "Everybody seems to love those younger women from eighteen on up to twenty-five." I suspect Ronnie's 26-year-old girlfriend was terribly grateful to him for his generosity.

3) The informative commercials: A concerned-sounding man asked, "Did you know that lack of sleep can lead to... fatigue? It's true!" Well, as you can imagine, I was shocked. Here I thought my fatigue was a result of listening to idiotic commercials on the radio, and it turns out I could have solved it years ago by sleeping more. My bad.

Anyway, I made it back home in time to pick up the kids, which was a relief. They seemed in high spirits, but Noah grew upset when we drove past the bank. He warned me never to go in there, because one of the kids at school told him they treat women very poorly in there. I asked what he meant, and he said "Well, not the bank, but the building next to it. They take women away from their homes and treat them very bad!"

"Oh!" I replied. "Does he mean the pink building?"

"Yeah! The pink one!"

"Oh... well, you don't need to worry. I promise not to go in there."

"Is it true, Mama? Do they treat women badly in there?"

"Um. Well. Um. I think you guys are too young to hear about that right now. I'll tell you when you're ten."

I know, I copped out, but I didn't feel like discussing strip clubs and debating female empowerment versus female exploitation with my 8-year-old. Maybe next week. But right now, it's Friday afternoon. I'm excited, because I'm going out to write tomorrow. I'm ready to quit messing around and actually send something out. :)
 

Noah just asked me for a piece of string. I didn't have any, so I gave him a big piece of red yarn. It turns out he was trying to tie it around his tooth to do the doorknob trick. One of his top teeth came out last week, and he's tired of waiting for the other one to fall out. It's only his fourth tooth to loosen, and his patience is gone. I just paid $120 to have his teeth "sealed" against cavities, so as far as I'm concerned, they can stay in there until I get my money's worth.

We survived Noah's 8th birthday party. Twenty kids came over, and they played games, ate pizza, tried to kill each other with the pinata bat, etc. We played a game that I remember fondly from my childhood. You wrap a bunch of prizes, throw them in the middle of the table, and then let the kids take turns rolling a dice. If you get a 1, you take a present, if you get a 2, you steal from another kid, etc. The catch (which I told them beforehand) is that some of them are booby prizes. It's a pain to do all the wrapping, but it's worth it to see the looks on their faces when they finally open their goodies and find out which half are good, and which half are dirty socks.

Today was a bit of a challenge. The kids had yet another day off due to bad weather (in this case, ice and fog). The highlight was hearing Abbie scream, "MAMA! LUC BROKE HIS BONE!!! LUC BROKE HIS BONE!!!" followed by the sound of Luc wailing. As luck would have it, I was in the middle of my shower at the time, so I came running out into the hallway with shampoo dripping into my eyes, only to discover I had misheard, and the situation was even more serious. Luc, although sound of limb, was at the top of the stairs, sobbing and clutching his broken balloon. I was irritated, but I have 98 new balloons in a jar on the counter, whereas I'm fresh out of femurs, so it all worked out for the best.

 

It's Noah's birthday, so Brandon took the kids to see Alvin and the Chipmunks again. Afterward, they are going to enjoy some exquisite cuisine, a'la McDonald's. I didn't go, because sitting for two hours is not an option right now. I've found that laying on my stomach offers the most relief to my leg, so that's what I'm doing. I've also mastered the art of laying on my stomach and typing, laying on my stomach and reading, and laying on my stomach and laying on my stomach. The only problem? I hate laying on my stomach. I really, really do. I also hate the fact that I'm a bit loopy right now, and can't remember whether it's supposed to be "lying on my stomach." Nah, that sounds wrong. Let's stick with "laying." Or would it be "done lain?" Eh, forget it.

Anyway, during my leisure hours today, I played a bit of euchre over at Pogo.com. It's a fun website, if you can tune out the chat windows full of stupid people to the right of the game screens. Today, somebody who chose HotandSweet26Partay as her screen name was going on at length about how shocked and appalled she was by the actions of one of the other Pogo members. He was -- get this -- actually hitting on her in a most ungentlemanlike fashion! Well, the other people participating in the chat room, Ivy League scholars all, certainly agreed his behavior was crude and unacceptable, and that he was most likely "a dang homo." Yes, that would certainly explain why he felt HotandSweet26 would be interested in anything beyond, say, discussing the economic ramifications of the national deficit.

In other internet news, I signed up at Facebook. I've now tracked down three lost loves, two former employers, and my birth parents. Okay, not really, but I did connect with one of my high school friends. She and I sent a few e-mails and had a very nice phone conversation on Friday. She lives in Kansas and rarely comes back to Michigan, so I doubt I'll actually get to see her again, but maybe one day. It's hard to believe it's been 15 years or so since I saw her.

Well, I'm determined not to miss the entire birthday celebration, so I'm going to go make cupcakes (okay, fine -- take them out of the plastic Wal-mart container) and wrap Noah's presents. I bought him rollerblades and (*shudder*) Kidz Bop 10. He's having a birthday party here next weekend, so he'll get more loot then. I can't believe my baby's 8!




 

Today's been a good day. I reconnected with a few friends (one from high school, who I've often missed over the years). I also got my hair chopped into an above the shoulder bob and added yet more blonde to please hubby. I thought he'd hate the short hair, but he sort of likes it... a lot. I'll post a picture after the hickies fade.

Our plans for the weekend include the soapbox derby for cub scouts. My little scout has been patiently sanding the block of wood, painting it to resemble the batmobile, and dusting it with graphite powder to make it go as fast as possible. Meanwhile, his son, Noah, has shown no interest whatsoever. The race is tomorrow, so wish Brandon Noah luck!





 

It was a great weekend. We had our friends Brad and Helen up for a visit. We just love seeing them. They're funny and smart and enjoy the same stuff we do. Plus, they read my blog, so that gets them extra bonus points. The beauty is that they're so nice, I don't even wish they didn't read my blog, if ya catch my drift. On Saturday, the kids all played while we chatted. That night, Brad and Helen taught us a new card game, and I'm proud to say I won, despite not actually having a clue what I was doing. On Sunday, the Dads took the kids sledding in the backyard all afternoon. Helen and I watched from the deck (we got 6 inches of snow on Friday). She was smart enough to go inside and check on the baby before Brad started lobbing snowballs. My 30,000 pounds of snow (plus the fact that he was down in the yard and I was up on the deck) stood me in good stead -- until Brad stormed the deck, that is. My son, Noah the Chivalrous, came running up and helped Brad pummel me. So much for defending your Mother's honor. At that point, I decided Helen could probably really use some help with the baby, and headed inside.

Now it's less than 24 hours later, and I have snow running down my neck again. Luc's class had a field trip to a sledding hill. It poured down snow, and I forgot my hat, so I look like a drowned rat. Luc, bless his little heart, is in a very independent mood these days, and wouldn't let me carry the sled up the hill. Yay for my back! I just had to stand at the top and watch. This left me free to use my telepathic powers to make sure Luc didn't get hurt. You need that sort of thing when fifteen preschoolers are all on the same hill. The first time Luc went down, he hit a giant mogul that we all failed to notice and went flying. He got quite a bit of air underneath before crashing. I ran down, but he was fine and anxious to go again. His sled kept listing to the right, and although he did his best to crash into other kids and sustain a major head wound, he made it out unscathed.

I have a crazy week ahead. I've got a PTA meeting, haircuts for the kids, Luc's swim lesson, Noah's dentist appointment, volunteering in Noah's classes twice, Abbie's ballet, Luc and Abbie's gymnastics, and Noah's pinewood derby. That last one may not happen, since our car is currently an unformed block of wood that's out of stock in all the area stores. Oh, and Luc's teacher gave all the kids with summer birthdays a "half birthday," so they could celebrate with their classmates, so I need to come up with some sort of healthy treat for them on Wednesday. I'm going with apples and caramel dip, because I'm bitter and passive aggressive and want to make their entire room sticky. They'll rue the day they messed with me! Bwahahahahahaha!

Anyway, I have two hours of free time right now, so I'm going to take the chance to do absolutely nothing useful. Ooh... I think I still have Grey's Anatomy on Tivo...



 

I got my MRI this morning. The test wasn't that bad. Medical dramas led me to expect a dark, dramatic room with Patrick Dempsey hovering anxiously outside in a small reading room. Instead, the room was bright and cheerful, and my tech, although pleasant, was wearing too much lipstick to resemble Patrick. She was nice, though. I brought a cd with my current favorites on it, and the test only took 1/2 hour. The hardest part was knowing I couldn't cough. Brandon watched the test with the tech, and as soon as I saw his super happy smile afterward, I knew I was pretty much screwed.

Him: Hey there!!!
Me: You are such a bad actor. It's pretty bad, huh?
Him: Well, I haven't read those since medical school, so I really have no idea!
Me: Brandon.
Him: You have a huge disc rupture. I think you need surgery.

The radiologist read the test in front of us, and called it a "massive disc extrusion." Eek. Apparently, it's not the same disc that was causing the lower back pain last year. That one resolved itself. This one might do the same, if I can live with the pain. Some days, I think I could. Others, I'm ready to gnaw my leg off. Anyway, Brandon's going to call the spinal surgeon today and see what he recommends. I can try physical therapy or a chiropractor, but neither is likely to help. I'm starting to get numbness and tingling in my lower leg, which is typical, but still worrisome. Well, no sense talking this to death (too late, I know) until I hear from the surgeon. On to other things...

While we visited Anne over the holiday, Noah, Max and Ethan (the latter two being my 7 year old nephews) got into some internet shenanigans. Ethan likes to watch Star Wars clips on youtube, so my brother-in-law gave him his own little link on the computer in the playroom (BIL works for Apple, so there are computers in the playroom, the kitchen, and the bathrooms). Well, the boys found a "humor" clip that showed Princess Amidala taking a pregnancy test. I haven't seen the clip, but it involved several shots of a long stream of urine interspersed with the droid saying, "More pee. I need more pee." The boys, partially confused and partially thrilled, spent all day making secret diaries, which is how we discovered what they'd seen (note to any 7 year old boys reading this: Don't announce you have written a top secret diary and then go into the other room to play Legos. The parents, while admittedly not so bright, as illustrated by the above events, will read it.)

We each talked to our respective children, and Anne apologized profusely for marrying a doofus. Heidi said Max has been obsessed with the video and mentions it constantly. Today, Noah got a letter from Max in the mail that was marked Top Secret. Noah read it in front of us, pumped his fist, and shouted, "Oh yeah! I'm up for that!" He refused to let us read it, set it on my bed, and then toddled off to school. Ah. So young and innocent. Anyway, the note said, "The next time we have a sleep-over, let's pretend to go to sleep, and then go on youtube." Max had also drawn a helpful map that had one small rectangle with a dotted line to another small rectangle. We're not sure what it all means, but we've sent it to the CIA, and their top code-crackers are working on it as we speak.


 

My leaking window is all straightened around. Mike, the awesome handyman who put on our new deck railing last year, came by and fixed the problem. He explained that the dip&^%$* who built this house attached the deck first, and then the siding. Hence, the snow closest to the warm house was melting and slipping behind the siding, and out through the window downstairs. The solution is to keep the deck cleared of snow. Since Mike emphasized the need for us to do that two years ago about eighty times, I was a little embarrassed when he arrived and the snow was knee-deep out there.

Mike shook his head and gave me a lecture: "Do you have any idea how much weight this is? I told you when I put this railing on that you needed to keep this deck clear of snow. That's why I left the extra space at the bottom. Your deck is going to rip off the side of your house, and the insurance company will just laugh at you when you tell them there was snow on here."

I giggled and joked about lazy husbands and promised I'd nag Brandon more often, in an attempt to charm Mike out of his sour mood. I think it worked, but it was hard to tell, since he was busy clearing off the two feet of ice and snow with a pickaxe while he muttered under his breath. I assume it was something about my girlish charm. Once he shoveled away the top layer of snow, our ineptitude as homeowners actually helped, since there was still a nice layer of dead leaves between the deck and the solid layer of ice. For some reason, Mike was unimpressed with our foresight.

Fun math time! I didn't actually have any idea how much weight was on our deck, so I decided to find out. I looked online and found that one cubic foot of heavy/wet snow weighs about 20 pounds. So let's all take out our trusty calculators here... if we assume we have an average of 2 feet of snow covering our deck at any given time, we would multiply that times our square footage, then again by .453 to convert to kilograms so we don't mistakenly send the Mars orbiter on the wrong trajectory, and then adjust for the drag coefficient by dividing by theta (where theta equals the weight of one molecule of water divided by pi), then we get: 0 kg. Crap, I hit that little "c" button by mistake. The hell with it. Let's throw our calculators away and have a drink.

So we're in the middle of a bizarre January thaw, which means the majority of the snow is now gone. Brandon has cleared the deck before (usually 2-3 times/winter), but will have to step it up to every snowfall (56-57 times/winter). I'd help, but tragically my poor leg still hurts, so I'll have to limit myself to moral support via knocking on the window and blowing kisses while I drink a nice mug of hot chocolate. He's going to have to try, though, because my real calculation came up with 30,000 pounds of snow on our deck at any given time.
 

Leo the Lion is visiting our house this weekend. Leo is a stuffed animal who lives at Luc's preschool, and he comes home to visit somebody new every night. Leo also confers "Special Student" status, which means Luc gets to watch over him and then bring in a special toy to share with his classmates on Monday. Of course, I forgot Leo was in the car until this morning, which means he spent most of the weekend in the car in subzero temps. Brandon pointed out it was a good thing they chose a stuffed animal over a hamster. As soon as he came out of his travel sack, Leo was snatched by Abbie, the Queen of the Stuffed Animals. She has installed him in a large basket lined with a pillow and a blanket, and surrounded him with a harem of 2,347 stuffed kitties.

In other news, we're installing an indoor pool in our rec room. This wasn't a planned renovation, but since we're in the middle of a thaw and one of the windows is leaking copious amounts of water down the side of the wall, I figure we might as well make the most of it. We had the same problem last year. Brandon thought he'd fixed it by calking around the window frame. It turns out, the water is coming in between the siding and the wood frame of the house.

*Cue Radio Announcer Voice*: Will the Peltiers find a siding contractor on a Sunday afternoon? Will the contractor find rotting wood behind the siding? Will the contractor accept payment in the form of Scruffy, the lovable family cat, who comes complete with a bag of clumpable litter and three tins of Fancy Feast Turkey n' Giblets Dinner? Tune in next time to We Shoulda Bought a Condo to find out the exciting answers!
 

I have to say, you people are more effective than pain killers. As soon as I posted my last blog, my leg started to feel better. This is a minor miracle, since it's grown steadily worse for the past 3 weeks or so. The sciatic pain reached from the small of my back all the way down to my ankle. I've had two steroid injections into my lower back that did nothing, and even went begging for narcotics between Christmas and New Year's. I made the mistake of taking a Vicodin during a screening of Alvin and the Chipmunks with my kids and can now report wholeheartedly that it was the best movie I've ever seen. The acting was skillful, the computer animation was incredible, and the little halos around everybody's heads really added to the festive spirit of the film. I give it two enthusiastic thumbs up. Oddly enough, I don't remember much of the plot, so you'll just have to see it for yourself. Tell them the lady who did the strip tease on the concessions counter during the 7:30 New Year's Eve screening sent you, and you'll get 10% off your ticket.

Seriously, the narcotics made me goofy and nauseated, but did nothing to dull the pain, so I only took them for two days. Now the pain is almost gone, and I'm wondering if I should bail on my MRI next week. Probably a moot point, since the pain may be back by morning, but a girl can hope, can't she?

As for now, I just took a wonderful bubble bath with the mango-mandarin bath goodies I got from Santa. I even shaved my legs to celebrate that I could reach my feet again without wincing, and used the matching scented lotion afterward. Barring unforeseen bee attacks, it's turning into a very pleasant evening. I think I'll go visit some blogs and catch up with you folks.
 

Can't sit or lay down. STOP Severe sciatic leg pain. STOP Upcoming MRI. STOP Will post more when I can sit for more than 30 seconds. STOP Hope you all had a good holiday! STOP
 

Disclaimer: This is a slightly abridged copy of my annual Christmas letter. A few of you may already have a physical copy at home, where you've undoubtedly lovingly framed it and placed it in a place of great honor. Have a great Christmas!

Merry Christmas! We hope you’ve all had a wonderful year. 2007 has been very hectic, but a lot of fun. All three kids are finally in the same school, with Noah in 2nd grade, Abbie in kindergarten, and Luc in part-time preschool. As I write this, the kids are tucked in bed, exhausted from an exciting night at the school’s Bethlehem Bazaar. The idea was to recreate the Bethlehem marketplace on the night Jesus was born. The evening took quite a bit of preparation. The first order of business was to sew period costumes for Abbie and Noah (the preschool class doesn’t participate). The school sent home a simple pattern (I’m assuming they got it from the July issue of Vogue BC), and I went to work. I'm not a very accomplished seamstress -- most of my projects are 1/3 machine sewn, 1/3 iron-on seam tape and 1/3 poorly concealed straight pins. If you draw back the curtains in my bedroom, you face a very real danger of contracting tetanus. I gave it my all, though, and after just five hours, I’d created robes for Noah and Abbie that were poorly-fitting, too short, and, it turns out, entirely the wrong color. None of this mattered to Luc, who walked up just as I tied the last knot to tearfully inform me that he wanted a costume too.

Once costume #3 was completed, I made candy and bread for Noah and Abbie to sell in their marketplace booths. The recipes provided were filled with the sort of simple, wholesome goodness that makes one thank God for high fructose corn syrup and Twinkies. The other option (which the kids cheerfully vetoed before prancing off to play) was to bake Pillsbury refrigerator rolls with a few sesame seeds on top. You know -- just like in biblical times. In fact, some scholars believe Mary and Joseph were startled during that long night by a strange noise, only to discover it was a careless stable attendant pressing a spoon to the seam on a can of crescent rolls (see Mark, 12:3-5). The kids had a great time at the bazaar, and in the end, it was worth all the hard work to experience the magical evening, see all the kids dressed up and, of course, to pay 50 cents for one of the cookies I’d baked myself mere hours earlier.

School is going fine for all three kids. Noah is keeping up well in second grade. He has also kept very busy with Cub Scouts, swim lessons, soccer and Tae Kwon Do over the past year. It’s a real shame there’s been no time for music lessons, since he recently informed me that he started a band with four other classmates. Look for “Mega Force Five” to appear at your better McDonald’s play centers everywhere, and opening for Ozzy Osbourne in this summer’s Ozzfest (see website for tour dates).

Abbie really loves kindergarten. She has also enjoyed several hobbies this year, including meowing, soccer, playing with stuffed cats, swimming lessons, pestering her real cat (Scruffy), ballet, carrying Scruffy around the house, cheerleading and feline studies. Scruffy’s new hobbies include copious shedding, hiding under the bed, and startling at sudden noises.

Luc is now in preschool three days a week. I won’t lie -- it has been a huge adjustment. At first, there were tears and screaming every time I dropped him off. Then, the teacher took me into the hall and explained that I was upsetting the other students, so now I wait until I get back to the parking lot. Luc, on the other hand, is doing great. He also finally got the chance to start soccer this fall, and took full advantage of the hard-won opportunity to pull his head and arms inside his jersey and pretend to be a turtle while the other kids ran around him all season.

Brandon is doing very well in his practice, and we feel like full-fledged residents of Cadillac now. Life in a small town has some interesting quirks. Last month, at Abbie’s school play, I sat down at a table with Abbie, her classmate, and his parents. The mother picked up one of the cookies, decided she was too full, and offered it to me. “I’d give it to my husband,” she said, “but your husband says he can’t eat them anymore!” I had had no idea Brandon was their doctor, and before my head could tell my mouth to shut up, I replied, “Well, I actually brought those cookies, and last night your doctor ate five of them dipped in peanut butter!” So other than my complete inability to censor my mouth, we’re doing great. We hope you all have a wonderful holiday season!

Love, The Peltiers

** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **


 

I stayed up late and wrapped Christmas presents last night. Now that Noah's older, all of his presents are tiny (cd's, video games, etc.), and it looks like we love the other two more when you compare the piles. I had to wrap his "Kidz Bop 12" cd in my old microwave box to make it look a little more impressive.

I had Brandon's presents in a plastic garbage bag in my sewing closet, and discovered one of the cats had peed all over the bag. My sewing closet has a small adjacent closet that contains the kitty litter (which is one of the many reasons I don't actually sew in there), so the cat peed about 5 feet from the box. I have no clue why. The problem is that we have three cats, so how am I supposed to tell which one did it? While I cleaned up, Bob was nervously sniffing around the area, so it was probably him. On the other hand, Scruffy was nervously pacing in the kitchen, so it was probably him. On the other other hand, Newton was acting a little too casual, so my guess is that he did it. Oh well. I suppose knowing wouldn't solve anything. It's not as though I can ground them or take away their napping privileges. I just hope it doesn't happen again (yeah, right).

We're in the middle of a snowstorm right now. It's windy (up to 50 mph) and we should get 4-7 inches today. I find this infinitely better than the dripping rain and lingering fog of yesterday. It should be over by tomorrow morning, so driving on Christmas day won't be a problem. Brandon works today (Sunday) and tomorrow until about 4 pm, and then he gets the rest of the week off. Yay!

My brother Jim is definitely moving to California at the end of the month. I'm happy for him, because I know it will be a lot easier to be in a wheelchair in a warmer climate. It will be hard not seeing him at holidays, though, and I suspect he won't come home very often, if at all. With my parents selling their house (or trying to), I think this is our last Christmas all together. I plan on doing my best to enjoy it.




 

Hey, great news. After weeks of silence, Noah has finally decided what he wants for Christmas: A Wii gaming system. Unfortunately for Noah, he's chosen a $300 present that's about as plentiful as ivory-billed woodpeckers. Unfortunately for me, he keeps looking up at me with shining eyes and saying stuff like, "I've been ever so good this year, Mother! I'm just sure I'm getting a Wii this year!" Oh well. A little disappointment is good for the soul. I'm going to catch hell, though, because his cousin Ethan is getting one. He's Anne's son, and Anne happens to be married to Ed, who happens to have a friend who works at Nintendo, which happens to make the Wii system. We just don't have that sort of connection. Why can't my kids ever ask for samples of Vioxx?

I just got back from the school's Christmas program. Brandon took the morning off so he could attend, but Abbie said she was sick this morning and stayed home from school. I figured she was faking it, so I made sure she stayed home, as my instincts are terrible on that sort of thing. If I make them go to school, I can usually count the seconds before the nurse calls to tell me they puked in homeroom. I'm pretty sure I was right about Abbie, though. She came downstairs at 8:30 am wearing an old Easter dress and passed out invitations to a tea party she's planning for this afternoon. I told her sick little kids were supposed to rest in bed all day. I guess Brandon thought I was talking about him, because he's been sleeping all morning, while Abbie's been making party favors.

Anyway, the concert was great (much to my surprise). It has truly been terrible in the past two years, but they hired a new choir director who has worked miracles. The songs were more current, and the kids were on key and singing together the whole time. There was even choreography. At first, I thought the new director might have tied up our children and brought in the cast of High School musical, but no, it was our kids. I was impressed.

Well, I had planned to enjoy my last hours of freedom before Christmas break this afternoon, but now I'm going to be sipping pretend English Breakfast tea on my living room floor. I hope she makes pretend scones, because I'm starved. I hope you all have a great day!
 

I just finished my Christmas cards and threw them in the mailbox. I love the feeling of checking something off my "to-do" list. There are always three pesky cards that lay around without addresses on them due to moves, but I refuse to dwell on them. Now my focus will be on wrapping presents and tying up loose ends.

I got some bad news earlier in the week: my Dad was diagnosed with prostate cancer. They caught it early, and he's an excellent candidate for surgery, so he should be fine barring any unforeseen complications. We are not a family that deals well with illness. They hadn't planned to tell us kids at all, but they wanted Anne to check the surgeon's record, and they had some questions for Brandon. I called there today to see how he was doing, and my Dad said, "I'm fine," in a tone that ended the conversation quite handily. I mention it here so you can throw him on your prayer lists, if you're so inclined.

In far happier news, my little girl turned 6 yesterday. She had a party over the weekend, and I haven't downloaded the pics yet, but here's a recent image:

Ain't she purdy?

Isn't it amazing how we can go through life for years, blissfully ignorant of pickles in Christmas trees, and then one day, they're everywhere we look? The other day, I blogged about our Christmas tree, and Tor joked about finding a pickle in the tree. I meant to write and ask him what on earth he was talking about, and figured it was a joke floating around blogville, in some blog I hadn't read yet. Then, later that day, I picked up the kids from school and Abbie asked whether we were German.

"Yes, honey, we are," I replied. "I never met them, but my great-grandparents were both German."

"Great!" she said. "That means we'll get a pickle in our tree this year!"

Um... okay. Clearly, I was missing something. I asked Brandon, and he said,

"That is so weird! I had never heard of it before this morning. When I got my hair cut, my barber mentioned his granddaughter was coming into town, and was sure to sneak to the tree to look for the hidden pickle. Apparently, the person who finds it gets a special present, or gets to open the first gift."

Ah, it's all so clear now. What isn't so clear is where on earth I'm going to find a pickle ornament. Is there some sort of specialty store in the mall, perhaps between the Auntie Anne's pretzel kiosk and Victoria's Secret? Or am I supposed to whittle my own? Because frankly, my dance card is a bit full right now.



 

Wow, three blogs in three days. Could a blue month be far behind? Okay, probably not.

We just finished the Christmas tree. It''s one of those hyper-prickly numbers, and my fingers are still smarting. It sort of takes away from the magical, Charles Dickens vibe when you're muttering curses under your breath every time you hang an ornament. Noah pulled out an ornament from last year that he made in school. It's a bright yellow angel that has his school picture pasted to the top for the face. It's about 8 inches wide and 12 inches tall, and hysterically ugly. Noah was so proud of himself as he hung it in a prominent position on the tree, and Brandon and I were so proud of ourselves for stifling our laughter. We try to wait until Christmas morning before we dash their hopes and dreams for the year.
 

I feel so much better today. Thank you so much to everybody for all of the kind wishes. :) We went to a Christmas party last night with a White Elephant gift exchange, and I'm now the proud owner of a gigantic stuffed turkey. This thing is about 3 feet wide and 4.5 feet tall. Apparently, it was worth a lot of money at one point, but then the owner's grandkids got into it and started pulling the feathers off of the chest. Now it looks like it's been attacked by wild dogs. Brandon and I figure one good joke deserves another, so he's on his way up to his office to leave it on his colleague's desk with the following handwritten note:

Dear Dr. G,

Thank you so much for the loving care you've given our family over the years. We consider you a part of our family, and wanted to give you something special. This turkey belonged to my Grandfather Henry, and has been cherished by us for many years. We hope you enjoy it, and have a Merry Christmas.

Love,
The Henderson Family

Of course, I wrote the note, and made the "Henderson" part completely illegible, so he won't know who sent the gift. Dr. G is an avid hunter, and might actually think it's pretty cool. The important thing, though, is I don't have a gigantic turkey in my living room right now. Really, it's a win-win.
 

I haven't written lately for two reasons:

1) I've been busy with school stuff for the kids. I'll complain about that another day, though.

2) I've been sick, and I'm sick of complaining about being sick (I'm fairly certain you're also sick of reading about it). I think it's actually reached comedic levels, though, so I'm going to go ahead. To recap:

Early November: The kids and I get bronchitis, which lasts for several weeks. The second course of antibiotics finally takes care of it toward the end of the month.

November 25, 10 am - 1:35 pm: Blissful health.

November 26: Chest cold, which deepens into... you guessed it -- bronchitis.

November 30: Stomach flu (each person in my family takes turns getting this over the next week or so).

December 1 - 5: I have severe laryngitis for five days. Have you ever attempted to control the actions of three small children via the power of mime? It ain't pretty. On day five, I desperately try to blink the message "Kill me now," but Brandon misunderstands and buys me a kilt instead. (Ha!)

December 6: I get the stomach bug again. I still have bronchitis, and start my third course of antibiotics. Later that day, I notice I have severe sciatic pain in my right leg. I can't take cough drops for the coughing or ibuprofen for the cramps/leg pain, because I'm nauseated. I can't rest, because coughing keeps me up at night. Did I mention this is the day my in-laws come into town so we can finally celebrate Thanksgiving together? I decide to give myself a break and buy a turkey breast (rather than a full turkey), but my FIL pouts because he sure likes dark meat. Hey, I wouldn't want to deny a guy his preferred turkey portion on this most sacred of holidays, Second Thanksgiving, so I shlep to the store and buy a whole turkey. Of course, the only ones left are 22 pounds, so we have enough leftovers for Third and Fourth Thanksgiving, too.

December 8: Hurray! Day 4 of my antibiotics, and my bronchitis feels much better. However, my leg pain is terrible. I can barely sit. Or lay down. Or stand. Brandon says I might have tendonitis, which is a rare side effect of this sort of antibiotic. Sure enough, I check out the package insert, and it says, "If you experience pain, swelling, or rupture of a tendon, stop taking AVELOX immediately." Rupture??? Needless to say, I stopped taking the medicine, so I've pencilled my bronchitis in for a reappearance at 3:30 this afternoon. I'm counting my blessings, though. The rest of the family is healthy. I can talk again. My stomach flu is gone. My cough is almost completely gone. My husband is getting drugs to fix my leg as I write this. Yep... it's been a rough month, but things are finally looking up.